


Inscription

by wynnebat



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kidnapping, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, but Derek doesn't appear in the fic, implied future Chris/Derek and canon Kate/Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-19
Updated: 2016-10-19
Packaged: 2018-08-23 10:34:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8324545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wynnebat/pseuds/wynnebat
Summary: One name for your fated enemy, the other for your soulmate. For the longest time, Chris is certain of which one Derek is.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this](http://wynnebat.tumblr.com/post/155227883813/chekhovsgum-cindymoon-im-so-tired-of-the-au) tumblr post by cindymoon and chekhovsgum.
> 
> Warning for kidnapping + vague threat of rape.

The name appears on both his and Kate's wrists overnight. _Derek_ , in blocky, rushed handwriting that will take years to be written anywhere outside their wrists. It's the handwriting of an adult, when right now, Derek is only just a newborn. The name lingers in Chris' head, would've even if he didn't see it on Kate's wrist, too.

"He must be terrible," Kate whispers the next night, having snuck into his room. "If we're both getting his name. Right?"

They haven't told their parents yet—everyone gets soulmarks, it's just a fact of life, not _evil_ , not supernatural, but their parents won't like it. Chris remembers being four or five and asking about his mom's marks, and she'd smiled at him and said that she was lucky her names were unusual. _Both have passed on now, sweetheart,_ she'd said, patting his hair down. _Yours will too. You mustn't worry._ His parents' ways are different than the rest of the world's. Right, of course, while the rest of the world is wrong, but when he looks down to his right and sees Derek and looks over to his left and sees Emily, he wonders what it must be like, to be normal. To fantasize about meeting his fated love instead of doing his best to avoid the witchcraft.

He supposes Derek could be one of their fated loves instead; it's not possible to tell which name is which. He's not Chris', since they're both boys, but he could be Kate's. But that would mean Kate would be fated to love Chris' enemy, and as irritating as his sister sometimes is, Chris can never imagine them not being on the same side. It's them against the world; Argents against all the creatures that they were put here to purge. That destiny is greater than the names on their wrists.

"You're right," Chris tells her, because that's the only truth he'll accept.

Kate's lips quirk into a smile. "Don't worry, I'll protect you."

Chris tries to smother her with his pillow, but she escapes, shrieking and nearly waking their parents up with her laughter. The next day, they tell their parents about the marks. Their parents are disappointed, but it was going to happen eventually. The only thing Chris and Kate had left was to deal, and never get involved with a Derek or Emily or Charlie.

.

"I'm Emily," says a girl in his physics class. "Emily Greengrass," is his freshman year RA. "Emily," last name smudged on the mailbox label, is his next door neighbor in the first apartment Chris owns. It's a common name.

For each Emily he meets who gets a flash of hope in her eyes, Chris smiles and tells her it's such a coincidence that she has the same name as his soulmate. Emily the soulmate is studying abroad in England, and later she is teaching English in Japan, and then eventually Chris starts saying she passed away. He's still mourning her, and no, he'd rather not talk about it, but thank you so much for your kind words.

Emily the coworker is the only one he doesn't properly meet. His father's company is gigantic, global thing, and Emily works in the legal department while Chris works in R&D between helping his father with hunts.

Gerard only brings it up once. "Do you want me to fire her?"

"You know that's discrimination," Chris replies. He wants to roll his eyes, but he remembers trying it as a pre-teen and getting smacked for it. His father's older now. Their relationship is much easier when Chris doesn't have to live in his home. On hunts, it's even easier. _Yes, sir,_ for a couple days every few months, and that's it. They're almost friendly these days. Still, he doesn't roll his eyes.

Gerard rubs his beard. "You're your own man now. I won't tell you what to do. But remember—these names, it's witchcraft. And you know what we do to witches."

"Yes, sir," Chris says. He doesn't remark on the fact that Gerard isn't worried about Derek. Derek, in Gerard's opinion, is a werewolf that Chris and Kate will put down eventually, just as the rest of the Argents have done with their fated enemies. He adds, "I've checked up on her in my spare time. The handwriting isn't the same. It's fine."

He's done no such thing. There are thousands of Emilies in this city. His favorite barista is an Emily. Chris may believe wholeheartedly in his family's work, but there's a difference between carefulness and paranoia. He switches the subject to the latest manufacturer reports, and Gerard lets him.

.

A year later, Chris barely remembers the conversation. It's tax season and the CFO is an Argent but not all the company's accountants are, and making sure everything lines up perfectly under shell sales and companies despite the fact that his father demands more and more guns each year is damn hard. Eight hour days turned into ten hour ones months ago and today had been a fourteen hour one.

He's standing in the parking lot and setting his suitcase down on the passenger seat of his car. Later, he remembers headlights, a crash, pain but not as much as he'd been in during training. He couldn't think clearly. Concussion, probably, and he tried to speak but his tongue wouldn't cooperate.

"It's okay, I've got you," a woman's voice said. "I'm so, so sorry."

Chris tried to tell her not to move him in case she'd damaged his spine, but she did anyway. She must be terrified enough to drive him to the hospital. If his suitcase got lost…

He passes out in her car.

He wakes up in a bed, but it isn't in a hospital.

"I'm so glad you're awake," says a voice Chris just barely remembers. Without all his blood pounding in his ears, he registers it as soft, pleasant. It's a stark contrast to the handcuffs he feels shackled around his hands and to the bedframe.

Chris looks around, his brain clicking into fight or flight mode. He can't do either; his entire body feels like one giant bruise, though as far as he can tell nothing is broken, and his feet are cuffed too. From what he can tell, he's in some kind of cabin, and all he can see out the window are trees. He's hours away from the city he calls home with only the woman who ran into him for company. And it's probably not because she wants to make sure he doesn't die from his wounds.

The woman has a nice, unremarkable face a couple years older than his. Chris remembers her only because he'd made sure of it years ago; he'd looked up Emily Anderson's personnel file to better be able to avoid her.

"Why am I here?" Chris asks, keeping his voice steady and as unaccusing as a question can be. She's already hurt him once.

Emily leans forward. Her eyes are a bright, wide green. "Don't you know?"

"I do… Emily."

That graces him with a smile. "I knew you knew me. I couldn't figure out why you wouldn't just say anything. I tried in the elevator, you remember, but you barely even looked up."

Chris doesn't remember. "Sorry."

"I know. It's not your fault. It's society's fault, you know. Us girls are supposed to look for our soulmates while boys just pretend they don't care. It's so silly, isn't it?" She doesn't stop to let him reply. "I looked for you for years and I could barely believe it when you came to me. You just didn't realize it."

Chris' throat felt tight. He'd trained in what to do if he was captured by werewolves, but never had he prepared for this. Emily was just a regular crazy person.

Usually, fated enemies and soulmates didn't just show up out of nowhere. You couldn't hate or love someone instantly; it took time to make an emotional connection. It took action. Chris had just never realized that it could be so one-sided. He'd thought of Emily as a coworker who'd been CC'd in some of his emails to the law department. They'd never even been in a meeting together. Emily had thought of him as the man she was going to hurt and abduct.

"I realize it now," Chris told her. "I promise. You don't need to keep me locked up."

Emily shook her head. "We can't do anything now, silly. You're too hurt. But later…" She grinned. "Won't that be fun. Do you want some chicken soup? It'll help you feel better more quickly. I have my mom's recipe."

Chris breathed in, breathed out. He's in pain and tired and a tad scared. It isn't overwhelming fear; Chris is a much different person than this woman could ever know. He's hurting too much to get himself out of the cuffs, but it's not the worst possible thing. Emily isn't a professional. She'll let her guard down, maybe when he begs for the bathroom, or maybe after a couple days of good behavior, and he'll get out. Or the police will find him. Or better yet, his family.

"I'd be delighted," he says, and forces himself keep up the idle conversation as she cooks. From his angle in the bedroom, he can't see if she's drugging his food. He'd be able to taste it, but by then it would be too late.

Time passes quickly. Emily checks in on him a couple times, then comes back with the soup on a tray. Before Chris can ask to be untied, she says, "It's alright. I'll feed you. You've been looking so stressed lately. You need a little pampering."

He ate from her spoon and couldn't taste the tang of drugs, though with the way his mind wasn't quite working right, it scared him that he might not be able to tell. In between a story about her childhood pets, Emily made him a cup of hot chocolate.

She stood in the doorway with two steaming mugs and smiled at him, so easily. Behind her, a shot rang out. Emily's eyes widened and she fell to the ground. Chris couldn't lift his head enough to see, but knowing his sister, it was a perfect head shot.

"I didn't realize you were in town," is the first thing Chris says. Eventually his mind catches up. "Thanks. How did you find me?"

"Dad had a tracker in your phone." Kate stepped over the body and bent over to pick the cuffs. "Losing your touch, big bro?"

"I would've gotten out of here in a couple days max," Chris replies. "Stupid of her not to get rid of the phone."

"We can't all be Argents," Kate replies. Her voice is breezy, but her grip is too tight as she helps him out of the bed and all but carries him out of the cabin. Chris tries to help put weight on his feet, but his head is spinning at a hundred miles an hour.

At two of Gerard's men, Kate says, "Burn the body and anything else incriminating."

"Get the bedsheets," Chris remembers to say.

After a _yes m'am_ and a _yes sir_ , the lackeys get to work. Chris throws up on the way to the car, the taste of chicken soup still lingering over the bile.

The first and only time he'd cried in front of Kate, it had been during training. They'd both been so young. She'd laughed at him and thrown mountain ash in his face. Kate's response to emotion had been, and still was, turning everything into anger instead. He thinks that if he cries right now, she'd still hold on to him, but he can't remember how to let things out that way.

"Was it my handwriting on her wrist?" he asks as she helps him into the car.

Kate looks at him for a long moment. "I didn't check her body. I could go back and see if the boys haven't burned her yet." When Chris takes a moment to answer, she adds, "You know the marks are bad news. The answer won't matter either way. Mom and dad said so."

"Yeah. I know."

Kate takes it as Chris deciding not to look, and Chris doesn't correct her.

.

The day after he gets out of the hospital, Chris goes out for coffee. His voice is hoarse as he orders, so much so that Emily the barista asks him if he's caught a cold.

"Might be the flu," Chris admits.

Emily mimes warding him off with a smile.

His hands shake, but he drinks the coffee.

One name down. Whether Emily had been his soulmate, just driven to insanity, or his fated enemy (more likely, since by twenty-four Chris has long lost the certainty that his soulmate couldn't be another man), it didn't matter. He'd make a life with an Annie or a Marco or a Laura, and one day, the names on his wrists would be history, just like the events of yesterday.

But for quite some time, Emily's grip on Chris' mind stays.

.

Kate joins the company at age twenty-one. She has no college degree, no experience, and no work ethic. Nepotism isn't whispered, it's bitched loudly about in break rooms. By now, Chris has a management position, and is working his way up to taking over from Gerard in a decade or two. Kate will lead their family once their mother passes; Chris will have this.

Or that was what he'd always thought. The cold way Gerard pushes Kate into the job and tells Chris to take care of it says otherwise.

"Did something happen?" he asks, closing his office door. It's no secret that Kate has always been their father's favorite. Chris is more obedient, but he's never had Kate's creativity or passion for the hunt.

Sneering, she says, "Only that dad's a scared old man who doesn't do enough. There's werewolves everywhere and he only manages to get the omegas. What about the packs? They're just living out there in broad daylight and Gerard doesn't do a thing about them."

"We don't have the resources for a full-out war," Chris says, but he knows how many weapons are diverted from the company each year. He helps hide the numbers, after all. It's more that for all that he believes in his family's ways, it's Chris himself who doesn't want to be stuck in the mess that is taking down an established pack. has a good job and a great girlfriend who he's been thinking of asking to be his wife. He's reached the point where he's valuable enough to the company that his father rarely takes him on hunts. It isn't perfect, this glass house, but it's good. "That's it? That's why you're arguing?"

"Yeah," Kate says. Her words aren't the truth either, but Chris doesn't ask.  

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> Complete; I have plans for a sequel, but it's not going to get written anytime soon/possibly at all.


End file.
